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BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 
835 Broadway, New York 



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Copyright. 1908, 

BY 

SALMON-MACLEAN 



All rifrhts reserved. 



248 6 64 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A Risen City i 

A Stricken City (Postscript Verses).... ii 

A Translation from Horace (Odes i, 5) 13 

The Bachelor's Button 14 

To the Dewdrop 15 

To Maidie 16 

Maid of the Indies (an Acrostic).' 17 

With My Yellow Rose 19 

My Daughter, Oh, My Daughter 20 

To Baby C , . 23 

Music's Part • 24 

A Phantom Storm 26 

To Birdie 28 

Ethlyn Ker 31 

Not There Was Solitude 37 

To Kitty 39 

In Memoriam 41 

The Siege of Quebec 43 

Gettysburg 49 

Insecurity 52 

Sonnets :^ 

If •- 53 

Never 54 



ii Contents. 

PAGE 

A-Mating 55 

To Conscience 57 

Patience 59 

At Eastertide 61 

Christmas Chimes 62 

Odes to the Seasons 65 

Evening Hymn 69 

Anthem: ''God Bless Our Island Home". 70 



Lovingly dedicated to my friends* 



**The poet's age is sad: for why? 

In youth, the natural world could show 
No common object but his eye 

At once involved with alien glow — ^ 
His own soul's iris-bow." 

— Robert Browning. 



PREFATORY NOTES. 

"A Risen City," which appears between 
these covers, is, properly speaking, only a se- 
quel to that poem, *'A Stricken City," pub- 
lished in the Autumn of 1907, in a little volume 
entitled A Stricken City. 

At first I thought it well to lend the title, 
A Risen City, to this selection ; but seeing that 
the writing of these poems had been the occu- 
pation of my spare moments, and hoping that 
they may be found fit for the filling up of 
many a leisure hour, I have decided to use 
Leisure Moments as the title of this book. 

Since each of the two poems, mentioned 
above, may be regarded as two separate cantos 
of one poem, I may safely include here the 
verses, which I composed after the manuscripts 
of A Stricken City had left my hands, and 
which would be duly inserted in some future 
printing of that poem. 

Of the remaining pieces, there are only a 
few, which lend themselves to the building up 
of what may be suggestive of a story: with 
that end in view, therefore, I have chosen the 
translation from Horace as the introductory 



ii Introduction 

piece and "To Birdie" as that, with which the 
tale should end. In grouping the rest, I have 
paid respect to the relationship of their subject- 
matter. 

I remember, quite well, that there are the 
standard authors and other authors of illustri- 
ous note to select from, so that in presenting 
this collection to the public, I do not wish it to 
be thought that I am claiming the attention bet- 
ter paid to them. I owe an apology, however, 
to those whom I may wear}^ with these lines; 
but I shall take this opportunity to thank those, 
who, finding within these pages some entertain- 
ment for a leisure hour, will deign to listen to 
me. 

For the sake of those who would sing the 
anthem, "God Bless Our Island Home," suf- 
fices it to say that the tune I had in mind, when 
I was composing it, was that sung to "God 
Bless the Prince of Wales." 

January, 1909. J. A. S.-M. 



Leisure Moments 



A RISEN CITY. 

**Pallu<ifi Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum 

iabernas 
Regnmnque turres/' 

HORACIS. 

'* Already, labouring with a mighty fate, 

She shakes the rubbish from her mounting 
brow 
And seems to have rene^cv'd her charter's date. 
Which Heaven will to the death of Time 
allow, 

*'More great than human now, and more au-^ 

gust, 

Now deified she from her fires does rise : 

Her widening streets on new foundations trust. 

And, opening, into larger parts she flies." 

' — Dryden. 

The gloom, which hid thee, city, once bereft 
Of life and fertile hours, has wholly left, 
In this dim twilight, lines of Beauty's form—* 



2 L:^isuRE Moments 

A rescue from the billows, after storm; 

For, 'midst the shadows, some did toil and 

toil. 
By Hope's bright rays, and leave, above the 

soil. 
The monument to Faith and Duty, join'd, 
Which sable-shielded Night has left behind. 

There, in yon glade high guarded by those 

hills. 
The Rio Cobre gurgling drowns his rills ; 
And innocent, yet with a murd'rous hand. 
He waters free broad fields at man's command, 
As through paths drill'd and dredged he con- 
stant pours 
The wealth unbounded of his num'rous stores. 
Whilst still the shades of those, who breathed 

their last 
Within his iron throat, would stand aghast 
As unavenged, his honour doth remain 
A star to light each shade that would maintain 
Within thy streets for Darkness his glad reign, 
Should local voltage die with redd'ning wane. 
His romp and laughter gladden visits paid 
To where Jove placed his forges in that glade; 
(Jove, conscious of his power to move thy 

wains. 
With blue eyes often peeps to view thy lanes). 
Proud escort of two dames he struts along; 
For, 'tween thee and Saint Jago, slow among 



Le)isurk Mome:nts 3 

Thick giant grasses, shrubs, 'neath many a 

tree, 
He plods his silent way towards the sea ; 
And there in quick'ning form his waters rise, 
And ebb, advance, retreat, with melodies. 

Now, through the twilight, there invite my 

gaze 
The shades of those you nursed in long past 

days — 
Days that to them were hours, in which they 

dreamt 
A life, from whose toils they are now exempt. 
See good Yule crowded 'round by these glad 

throngs 
In thy great mart, to greet him with their 

songs ; 
There, strings and brass still sweeten mingling 

strains 
Of happy children, mirth of older swains: 
Some, wont to worship on old Christmas 

morn. 
Keep conscious night's drear hours still to 

adorn 
Themselves with robes peculiar to the hour 
That breathes to mark Yule's advent; then 

adore 
Him, in their haunts renew'd, for gifts and 

pleasures. 
Which o'er earth he has strewn in varying 

measures. 



4 Le^isur^ Moments 

But from across the vale they envy those, 
Whose day still flows towards time's dark- 

some close ; 
And, as afore, they crowd each cool resoit, 
Up on the hills, and at thine eastern fort. 

There on the hills, where every tropic tree 
And bud and flower seek immortality. 
Whither the crystal waters haste their steep 
Descent to meet in cisterns wide and deep, 
Whence slow they wend their hidden path to 

thee 
Where once again they chatter when set free, 
E'en now I wander by each dewy lawn 
In fancy's dream (for here now breathes a 

Dawn). 
See that young palm : she stands alone ; around 
Her lies a carpet green, and gravel-bound. 
Look at yon grove, whose walls of trees pre- 
vent 
The distant eye from seeing what is pent 
Within: there're rock'ries there 'neath wood- 
built cots, 
Where ferns of every tribe do own their lots; 
Rose, jessamine, the tropic floral world 
In artful ways are everywhere unfurl'd. 

And those haunts left, behind uncultured trees, 
Whose leaves must chatter with each fickle 

breeze, 
A paradise but hides. Then now beside 



Leisure Moments 5 

The foam, or the soft ripples of the tide, 
Upon green grassy patches, linger I 
With Music, while she tunes a starlit sky. 
And oft I climb'd, at dark'ning twilight, that 
Old fort o'er there, while Phoebe o'er it sat ; 
And thence I saw thee as thou wast ; but now, 
Methinks, I see thee as thou art. Oh how 
Couldst thou, O city, ever leave a spot 
So fertile with fond pleasures? Bless thy lot; 
Renew thy hopes ; and ever hold each charm, 
Which'll stand obliv'ous to all threat'ning 
harm. 

What of the other charms that grace the land ? 
They works of Nature, thine of human hand. 
Though, as excelling thine, they win man's 

praise, 
Yet, near at hand, thine ready meet man's 

gaze. 
Now here they are, more num'rous they than 

thine : 
They are apart, I skip to each in line; 
For, absent there, no union binds me here 
To give the geographer a willing ear : 

With climbing steps from Kendal's thirsty 

mead. 
Near four leagues north I rein my panting 

steed ; 
Behind, a parish; facing, one doth stand; 
And gaping gorges gaze from either hand; 



6 Iv^ISUR^ MOMEJNTS 

Here, in this path, in brotherhood are join'd 
A range before and rugged chffs behind. 
A freak of rivers claims that cleft for birth — 
There, o'er the left wheel, in that lap of earth; 
His name is Hector ; buried many a time, 
He rises, too, as oft king in his clime ; 
Still, in his grave beneath a bridge he sleeps ; 
And o'er his dark broad bosom traffic sweeps. 

That yon dark mount looks south : its visage 

shows 
To mem'ry bovine eyes, and horns, and nose; 
And Nature kind to him preserves his age 
To baffle calculations of the sage. 

Who envies me now trailing but an ass 
Deep laden with three blankets, food, spy-glass, 
Intent to win in one night that proud peak, 
Whence I would rule a realm for half a week? 
He envies me, who reaching there espy 
Encircling waters fringe earth's canopy, 
When winds would shepherd kind their fleecy 

flocks 
To heights more humble, less of earth — more 

rocks. 

*Midst hilly wilds, a scene quite quaint and 

grand 
Attracts the visitor, who roams the land ; 
Beside a fall, which chatters loud, and e'er, 
A massive boulder lies secure ; and there 



Lkisurk Momi:nts 7 

Slim boulders, train'd to herculean task, 
Remain supports, and never aid would ask; 
And daily master and his slaves record 
The gifts of those, who names as gifts afford. 

Between two precipices deep, and dark, 
To one of which the iron stairs still mark 
A knighted way, a broad white path, between 
1 hick foliage, joins opposing banks : a scene 
Ennch'd by relics in caves 'neath the green. 

Hard by the shores north-eastern, lies a fount 
Betwixt the legs of a too selfish mount; 
His darkish blue gives free the racing sun 
And ling'ring moon their pictures as they run 
Whilst crowding herbage, rich with daily 

showers. 
Incessant test his photograph powers; 
But woe to man, whose steps would him be- 

^ tray. 
As 'long that climbing path above he'd stray ! 

And what can sunset give to please the sight? 

As from a subterranean path to light 

The pass'nger goes, far 'hove Montego town, 

He sees below, as quick he glances down, 

A carpet variegated cov'ring fields 

Of logwood, sugar, all the tropic yields. 

Upon the carpet's edge, a city sits 

Beside a bay, whose fringes Nature knits 



8 L:eisuRK Moments 

Still ; and there stretches that bay's sharp-cut 

line, 
Watch'd by trees darkly green from 'midst the 

brine. 
But where yon kiss the ocean and the sky, 
The lord of day, in bidding earth good-bye. 
Would doff a hundred times his crimson cap, 
And leave it hanging o'er the ocean's lap. 
A few steps from the highway give a plain 
Enthroned full twelve feet 'bove the briny 

main; 
The leafy screen, through which the path doth 

wind, 
Conceals a cot — rich Pleasure's selfish find ; 
Before it gapes an orifice drill'd large, 
Sunk through the massive granite near the 

marge ; 
In the huge throat an iron stairs but stand 
Erect, with feet deep buried in the sand. 
To see the cot rear from the rocky south ; 
And near where stand the stairs, the gaping 

mouth 
Of this famed Doctor's Cave an entrance 

gives 
To waves, in which drug inexhaustive lives. 
Nearby, descends by steps a chisell'd way 
That meets the ocean where 'twould choose to 

play. 
Right noble is the proud Saint James, for 

more 
With wonders have the gods enrich 'd his store : 



Lkisur^ Moments 9 

No bluffing headland would add to his pride; 
Embedded 'midst the hills, far from the tide, 
So limited and cool, blue waters sleep, 
While shady trees surrounding vigil keep 
And mow the leaf -strewn margin of the 

couch. 
Their tide but sleeps, the deep marsupial pouch 
Ejects its mermaids on the rock-bound shore, 
Should Nature's lips hush sounds they often 

bore. 

And must a golden table float here, too ? 

Must some hid treasure air its head anew? 

Old Tempus doth, at times, command each 
shade 

Of watching Spanish servants to parade, 

When from the depths unfathom'd of a pool 

Ascend a golden table, and a stool ; 

But to remain coveted Spanish art, 

Down, down they go. The guarding shades 
depart. 

Then somewhere else would rise through fire 
and blood, 

'Midst leaf-topp'd twilight, or Sol's albine 
flood, 

Some Spanish jar with golden charge en- 
closed — 

A willing present rich for once exposed. 

Myth? Myth, perhaps, the table, stool, and 
jar. 



lo MisuR^ Moments 

(Mafuta! Chemist; test my good cigar.) 
But will mafuta still besmear thy walls, 
When Wine and Music pace thy lighted halls ? 
Will foreign weed engage Jove's chymic hand, 
And let a lordly weed manure the land? 
Fair, lovely daughter, 'mid so many scenes, 
So rare, so grand, and scatter'd by ravines ! 
Black River, grim Bull Head, Blue Mountain 

Peak, 
Cane River, Riversdale, Blue Hole in bleak. 
Bleak Portland, and Blue Hole — the mermaid's 

creek, 
The rest, too (of Saint James'), are of an age 
Too changeful, and still Nature's hand engage : 
Thou art of man; thy charms, of him; but 

they. 
Of Nature; and thy mother, Nature's clay. 
There're more of charms, thy mother's name 

recalls ; 
Another theme would better make them 

thralls. 
From thy rent clay thy spirit wander'd long; 
And winds, and waves sad chant thee dirge, 

and song. 
Whilst tim'rous Nature wept, great Jove his 

voice 
Sent forth as herald, to bid earth rejoice; 
For, from above, the gods did show him there 
Beneath a ray-spun gloom thee, risen fair. 
Whom, as young Day rose from his cloud- 
draped bed 



L^isuR^ Moments ii 

And brought thine easier glad, we saw not 

dead. 
Now from our hearts, once rent by sorrow's 

rod. 
And from our Hps would rise glad praise to 

God; 
For now anew, in robes ethereal-like 
Thy new-born, newly modell'd form doth 

strike 
The eye that sends across thy narrow sea 
A shaded look towards Liguanea's lea. 
No more our tears bedew thy memory, 
No more thee as thy grave our eyes must see; 
We see as monument thy risen self. 
Or urn, thyself, upon that drooping shelf. 
Thou, new in form! What better word can 

give 
Thine aged spirit name ? Long Kingston live ; 
Immortal as thy name, may'st thou e'er stand 
To welcome every age, and every land. 

(Posfscripta.) 

Within those rails that hoimd thy garden 
square, 
• ••••• 

Thy choicest tropic blossoms bloom no more 
There, where encamp the needy rich and poor. 
E'en where thy cloister'd pilgrims, with 
their songs 



12 L^isuR^ Mome:nts 

Warm from their hidden altars and their 

tongues. 
Once join'd the reeds and strings in incensed 

praise 
To Heaven's King, on fixM repeating days, 
Through blows impartial, desecrating, mix'd 
Lie stones and tablets loving hands once fix'd. 
Again within that dusty circling track, 

There nozv a homeless populace lament, 
Sky this ones canopy, and that a tent. 



L^ISUR^ MOMl^NTS 13 



A TRANSLATION FROM HORACE. 

Odes I, 5. 

What youth, with many roses, slim, 

With liquid odours sweet, o'er him, 

Woos thee, Pyrrha, beneath some rock's 

Cool grot ? For whom bind'st thou thy locks ; 

Thou simply neat ? Ah ! oft, trust lost 
And changed gods he'll weep, and [toss'd] 
Waves, stirr'd by darkling winds, t' his eyes 
All new, will hold his long surprise, 

Who, now thee golden deeming, thee 
Enjoys, who hopes thee always free, 
E'er lovable — he mindful not 
O' the treach'rous gale. To those hard lot, 

Thou shin'st on new. The sacred wall 
On votive tablet doth install 
My garments wet, as hung by me. 
Tithes to the god, who rules the sea. 



14 Leisure Moments 



THE BACHELOR'S BUTTON. 

Thou, sprite, that blow'st us, rose-buds. 
To meet and kiss and part, — 

Thou, who dost ever kindle 
The fires of Cupid's heart, 

Thy breath, steep'd with the essence 
Of sweetest flowers of June — • 

Will it not bend towards me 
A lily fresh and soon ? 

Here, on the branch that bears me 

Alone, I sniff the air. 
And rock; yet meet no lily, 

Who'll whisper in my ear. 

Fire me my heart, as Cupid's ; 

Breathe, Love, around us, flowers'; 
Blow me again ; and I will 

Sweet whisper at their towers. 



Lhisurk Moments 15 



TO THE DEWDROP. 

Now morning breathes, earth's fair, anew. 

In gilded garbs appear ; 
And thou, too, stainless, smiling Dew, 

Thou, dot, transcendent clear. 

Refreshening to all around, 

Reflecting heav'n above, 
Unstain'd a jewel thou art found. 

Fit emblem of pure love. 

The bustle of a busy world, 

The thermal rise of day 
Are not for thee ; the leaf is curl'd, 

Thy spirit fleets away. 

The hours fly; begem me while 
Thy life 'neath heaven glows; 

Long kiss me; and an e'er fresh smile 
Will meet each watching rose. 



i6 LiJisuR^ Moments 



TO MAIDIE. 

Thy name brought Fancy ; and her hand 

Thy photograph outhned 
Upon these walls, which once did stand 

All bare within my mind. 

The buried months made fresher those 
Faint outlines; and each thought 

Within me bloom'd a fragrant rose: 
And thou the rose I sought. 

But will not time cease to divide 

Our trystings that afloat 
Upon its tide we, side by side, 

May sail our little boat? 



Iv^isuR^ Moments 17 



MAID OF THE INDIES. 

Maid of the Indies ! this you did command. 

I would I were so skilful that my quill 
Should not but trace, in this, thee, worthy, 
grand. 

So perfectly like thee ; for by His will 
God did in thee mould Beauty with His hand. 

I would my tongue could render what is sweet, 
Befitting, with full rapture; earth'd seem 
bare, 

Bereft if e'er with time thy youth should fleet 
On to eternity vast, certain, near ; 

Not thine it is to welcome soon retreat. 

Could I with epithets, in numbers good, 

Harmonious touches give those blushing 
cheeks, 
About which smiling Dimples silent stood 
Receiving imprints of what glad Mirth 
speaks — 
If but my muse were talented — I would 

To me, my task is but a laurel rare 

Young bards would never get, if Fate's dark 
frown 



i8 LmsuR^ Mome:nts 

Beclouds their brows (e'en though the muse is 
there), 
Ere Custom, with her bay, or myrtle crown, 
Gives kingship to their worthy heads once bare. 

Indeed, this mould, which breathes thine own 
true breath. 
No one else would more fitly hold; and 
though 
So glad a print, as this, may meet the death 
A short-lived scan from thee could but be- 
stow, 
The muse did sing. And now the kind muse 
saith : 

"Here rest the tribute." But the muse sets 
here. 

On ending, this support all tribute-crest, 
Memento-like of spots to us most dear — 

Earth's only symbol of man's saintly rest. 



L^isur:^ Moments 19 



WITH MY YELI.OW ROSE. 

And what, — must, as this passing flow'r, 

The first spray and divine of that 
Pure worship, which on thee I show'r, 
All known to thee, be soon forgat, 

As fickle winds 
Must rid my petall'd care of all 
That wish and future could install 
For two so free and kindred minds? 

Perchance, 'Adieu, Adieu' thy lips 

May give my sense too pleased to hear 
Their notes, of which sad Mem'ry sips 
(Now, they have ceased to tune my ear) : 

Ah! e'en as wine, 
Thy voice would but intoxicate 
My soul forsaken now, too late 

To know our hands shall ne'er entwine. 

Serve me my potion — weal, or woe ; 

The cup would savour e'er of all 
That therein Mem'ry's lips would know, 

For thee my thoughts must e'er enthral: 
Though winds unfair 
My hope, my craft, may vengeful scourge, 
Unless thy breath joins to submerge 

That craft, to thee me shall it bear. 



20 L:eisuRE Moments 



MY DAUGHTER, OH, MY DAUGHTER. 

"My daughter, oh, my daughter !" 

The weeping mother cried. 
*'Thy daughter, fairest lady,*' 

Said one ('twas eventide), 

"Is in that mansion ; thither 

I saw her wend her way. 
When hght and dark were blending 

To usher in this day." 

"Ah! Sirrah, wait here, linger 

Around my little home 
Till I return' with Mary — 

Oh, Heaven, tend my roam." 

The widow'd woman girded 

Her waist, to lift her sack 
One inch ; and soon the distance 

Lay trod behind her back. 

Now standing by an organ. 

From which great Hadyn*s soul 

Immortal sweet was flowing 
As rare wine from a bowl, 



LiJisuRE Moments 21 

"Stop ! Sir,'* said she : the fingers 
Ceased o'er the keys to roam ; 

The voices fled the organ; 
Brief, silence ruled the home. 

Then out burst the pale widow : 
"I know that thou hast said, 

*0 could I reach that dame's heart, 
To dwell there till I'm dead;' 

"Ah, Sir " But here he stopp'd her. 

*'0h, lady," cried the beau, 
"Your daughter's hand I pined for; 

Her heart (ah, this I know) 

"Was mine, is mine ; these fingers '* 

But here his voice was drown'd 

By sighs, the blood his cheeks left, 
His brow the 'kerchief found, 

"These fingers long have won her 

Proud heart ; her letters bear 
Me witness that my wishes 

Were hers, too ; this I swear." 

A hundred steps resounded 

Upon the carpet green 
That from an inner chamber 

Led to this parlour scene; 



22 Leisure Moments 

The purple curtains parted: 
A damsel, with her hair 

Loose hanging o'er her shoulders, 
Rush'd in to where tliey were. 

"Oh, mother," said the damsel, 
"Fear not ; the 3^ear of strife 

Thou gavest me is ended ; 

I'm now John's wedded wife." 



LEISURE Moments aj 



TO BABY C- 



Thy voice through space in waves — a sea— < 
Comes breaking o'er my memory, 
And flooding all, o'er which mine eyes 
Now wander : you before me rise. 
Though time divides this present hour 
From when I saw thee, youthful flow'r, 
I now behold those fearless eyes, 
Through which thy soul surveys what lies 
Around awaiting thee, when days 
Will bring thee, lass, spring's fickle ways. 
But through those eyes, methinks, I see 
A soul that dreads no rod's decree; 
And lips so firm set but reveal 
Such as Truth's own would ne'er conceal. 
What haughty mien crown'd by thy browl 
And e'en no rippling smiles allow 
Thee to display the simple ways, 
Such budding youth too oft betrays. 



24 Ll^ISURE MOMJ^NTS 



. MUSIC'S PART. 

Fingers eager but to please 
Dance the keys 

High, and low ; 
Fast, then slowly from the cords 
Float sweet chords 

O'er the bow; 
Anger's eyes deep tinged with red 
Dive the waves, as quick they spread 
Row by row. 

Sharp, and flat, and semitone 
Melt the stone 

Of a heart; 
Sparkling clear, as from a fount, 
Tears now mount ; 

Quick, and smart 
Flees revenge from that calm'd breast, 
Where breaks soothing each waves crest 
Music's part. 

Storms rage long; deep billows roar: 
From the floor 

He his eyes 
Lifts; and, through the window niche, 



L:^isuRB Mome;nts 25 

Meadows rich 

Sudden rise : 
Waves unseen, and tempest's sprite 
(Sudden hush'd their phantom might): 
Quit their guise. 



26 LmsuR^ Moments 



A PHANTOM STORM. 

The roof was canopy; each idle chair, 

Which stood around me, wore a look of care. 

The hearth was sleeping; summer breathed on 

earth ; 
And in the fields dwelt every voicesome mirth ; 
Whilst all alone the clock the mantelpiece 
Kept to himself, and ne'er his chat would cease. 
A canvas o'er the clock e'er silent speaks; 
It tells of rocky streams, of snow-capp'd peaks, 
Him, having seen no Russian foe to fight, 
Retreating to his den a conquer'd wight. 
In whom earth saw a corp'ral, emp'ror, slave 
When from a throne he'd fled to Freedom's 

grave : 
That scene, that Corsican's almighty will 
Did lend themselves that twilight hour to fill. 
And 'round me art, too, frame-pent, voiceless, 

spoke ; 
I listen'd, until when string'd voices broke 
The silence. 

'Twas a midnight ride, as by 
Some dark green cornfield, 'neath a moonlit 

sky,— 
One sea reflecting every willing ray 



Leisure: Mom£:nts 27j 

That Phoebe would but shower, on her way ; 

And now to hear a sudden gentle noise 

From 'midst the leaves — a little streamlet's 

voice 
Attuning earth, and floating at the curves, 
When, o'er the peak by him, his fear-struck 

nerves 
Would storm detect, and find him all without 
A raincoat; then as he would turn about 
The willing palfrey, lo, the eyes must find 
White sheets hung from the welkins black; a 

wind, 
A-hurrying from the fire display of Jove, 
Fast driven by the voice of him it strove 
In vain t' escape ; the pulsive screams of leaves, 
Which must fall smitten, strewn, and not in 

sheaves : 
These, these appear, as musing I would dream 
Of what I heard when music was a stream. 



28 Leisure Moments 



TO BIRDIE. 

Oh, birdie, Bird, the cage door 

Is ope, none doth rejoice; 
The roof re-echoes no more 

The music of thy voice. 

The Hnnet, and the thrush, too, 
Who danced each day around. 

And fought the doors to get through, 
And at each other frown'd, 

And kiss'd the wires that guarded 

The sanctum of thy cage, 
Hast thou left unrewarded — 

Each left without his wage? 

Were they not guards, who watch'd thee 

With patient, jealous eye, 
As if from some dread en'my 

They saw e'er drawing nigh? 

But where art thou, oh, birdie? 

Thy spirit haunts thy cage, 
The mem'ry of each laddie, 

Whom Envy did engage. 



Le;isure Moments 29 

Each whistle of the spring winds 

Recalls thy memory 
To each, who now in it finds 

A vocal treasury: 

The linnet, and the throstle 

Do mourn that thou art gone, 
As now the March winds rustle 

Around the cold, cold stone-^ 

The stone, which marks the fond spot. 
Where once you charming stood : 

Was violence thy hard lot? 

Or hast thou sought the wood? 

Is thy sad absence ever 

To see us grow insane? 
From gloomy thoughts deliver 

Our minds, which long have Iain 

In regions of anxiety, 

Where threat'ning Horrors gaze 
With redden'd eyes, whence Piety 

Is banish'd all her days. 

When Beauty, with her brushes, 

Thy rosy cheeks did taint. 
And tinge thy lips with touches 

O' the rarest crimson paint. 

When happy Mirth, and Duty 



30 L^isuR^ Mome:nts 

Their touches did combine, 
RemodelHng thy beauty 
Here, in thy small confine, 

The stern world would then kind grow. 

And happy grew the sad, 
Then, Anger would no ill know, 

And saneness clothed the mad, 

The weary hours would light grow. 

And labour pleasure gave, 
Where'er thy smile would free go. 

As light across the wave. 

Return, oh, birdie, birdie; 

The linnet and the thrush 
Await thy coming, maidie. 
Thou, birdie, cherub, lady! 

Around thy cage they rush! 
Within thy cage they jostle! 
The linnet, and the throstle,— 
The linnet, and the thrush. 



L^isuRi; Moments 31 



ETHLYN KER. 

Flat was its top ; a cent'ry flew 
Once o'er its pebbled paths ; that hill 
Was crown'd with one large church, which 
knew 

What masonry's deft hand and will 

Could raise to baffle time's decay. 

Beside those paths, slabs, carved with skill, 

Reveal'd too many a bed of clay, 
In which the sleepers victims were 
Of every Fate. As there they lay, 

And slept, they reck'd not of the stir, 
Which shed sad tears, and raised loud cries 
For one there known as Mistress Ker. 

Between the church and eastern skies. 
Within the churchyard guarded, rose 
The pastor's cot in lowly guise. 

Beneath its roof, in calm repose. 
As evening's curtains lower'd slow, 
A candle's ray would oft disclose 



22 Leisure: Moments 

Fair Ethlyn sitting by its glow. 
A voice, as chanting to each stitch, 
Would always read while she did sew. 

The pulpit knew that voice's pitch ; 
It fill'd so oft the spacious church, 
Which never knew its tongue to hitch. 

As quick a wind the sky did smirch 
With clouds, one Sunday afternoon, 
The choir wish'd no more to perch . 

As warblers of a strain ; but soon 

That voice, which all had known so well— • 

The pastor's — led them, as the moon 

Her tides. Then as the organ's swell, 
And fingers nimble, feet, each tongue 
Did sudden in hush'd silence dwell, 

A deep voice roar'd the hills among : 
Two clouds of threat'ning mien came fast; 
And as they cleft the paths along 

For those they led, lo ! each quick cast 
A bolt at his brave foeman, and 
The duel did no longer last. 

The sun peep'd out to view the land, 

As twilight left the land and sea ; 

For, as when youth's too mischievous hand 



Leisur:^ Mome:nts 33 

Offends decorum, then doth flee 
The urchin from fear'd disciphne, 
The clouds had sought a western lea. 

But there beside the aged shrine 
The target of the duel lay- 
Beneath Destruction's foot, and pine 

(Whose larger end had dent the clay, 
And now against his thigh it lean'd) : 
The cottage lies there to this day. 

The pastor's aged wife had ween'd 
Not Fate's decree, as there she sat 
Beside the table, while she clean'd 

Each misty lens : the snowy cat 
Then keeping slumb'ring silent watchi 
Within the doorway on the mat, 

The clock, which many a spring did catch 
Slow tolling every minute's death, 
Its friend upon the grassy patch. 

On which Sol wrote when pass'd the breath 
Of every hour, and Ethlyn, all 
Were canopied, unwarn'd by Death. 



34 L^isuR^ Moments 

There was no note of Ethlyn's call. 
To that sad scene, there was a rush, — • 
As sounds the wind amidst the tall 

Shrubs of the forest's thick-set bush, 
Or e'en 'midst autumn rustling leaves, 
Stiff skirts did flutter, halt, then hush— 

A calm. Too long, and deep for breves — 
Those breves, which pedals low long sound — 
Rose each sad groan, such as relieves 

The pain of him, who is long bound 

By sorrow, or regret; but they 

Saw given up, by that strewn ground, 

Poor Ethlyn in life's less'ning ray. 

A heart, hard press'd by sorrow's weight. 

Upon the stiffen'd tongue will lay 

A portion of its weary freight; 
The tongue, then stubborn, silent lies, 
Whilst crowding thoughts confused, ere late, 

Now take the tide towards the eyes: 
The feeble pastor silent wept. 
Mix'd groans, and shrieks, and lengthen'd 
cries 

Bewail'd the fate of her, who slept; 



Leisure Moments 35 

But Phoebus smiled upon the scene, 
As o'er the western skies he swept 

In royal state : this did chagrin 

The heaven occidental, for 

Its blood-tinged face was plainly seen. 

As Sol slipp'd through his exit-door, 
The heaven o'er its blood flush'd face 
Drew veil, and shew'd its rage no more. 

A sombre mantle o'er the place 

Was spread ; but when the sun did raise 

It, ere he start'd his wonted race, 

He saw there, through the morning haze, 
Beneath a willow's ravish'd hair 
(Each lock, a tongue on windy days), 

The gather'd friends. A cold, dark air 
Swept every countenance, as slow 
Was Ethlyn lower'd sadly there 

To reach her narrow bed. But lo. 
Whene'er pale Death, his cruel shocks 
Gives, who would dare defy? and, oh, 

Down cheeks once dry, as desert rocks, 
Flow'd silent streams. Now, one by one, 
They left, some with disorder'd locks. 



36 Leisure Moments 

Beneath that willow, one large stone 
Half buried, with its chisell'd face 
Half turn'd to heaven, there alone 

With silent tongue betrays the place, 
Where Ethlyn 'neath a willow's moan 
Lies, watch'd by many a petall'd grace. 



Leisure Moments 37, 



NOT THERE WAS SOLITUDE. 

Not on that mount of pleasures bare, 

Where all alone I breathed the air 

So cooling, whistling merry tunes, 

For ten and three repeating moons,—* 

Not there was solitude. 'Twas not 

Because a kitten had forgot 

To seek the dewy bowers, where 

The feather'd minstrels tuned the air; 

'Twas not the horse, which liked to peep 

Into my room, where lay asleep 

Poor Kitty on my snowy bed ; 

'Twas not the winds, which often led 

Their flocks close by my cottage door, 

Or e'en across the glossy floor 

(For, oftentimes, they did intrude 

There) : these did not drive solitude! 

And e'en in sweetest leisure, when 

O'er crag, o'er fence, through wood I then 

Let careful steps my way select 

To pluck buds, which my breast bedecked, 

To go to kiss the singing brook. 

Or, haste to hide within a nook 

From driving rain; or when I rode 



38 L^isuR^ Moments 

Through fens, through mist, or where they 

sow'd 
The golden corn, or ginger : there 
No soHtude was ever near. 

(Life was a dream too short to thee.) 
As one, who slept with limbs stretch'd free. 
As if but list'ning to some sound 
That murmur'd in the rocky ground, 
With eyelids, lips, and senses seal'd, 
While hover 'd 'round about the field 
His guardian angel, leisure spent 
The summer hours in sweet content : 
So I those days when there was e'er 
Thy spirit present. How could there 
Be solitude when thou wast near? 



Li^isuRS Moments 39 



TO KITTY. 

Too loud, too loud I say, Kitty, 

A whisper e'en I hear ; 
But snores Hke thine would chase all thoughts 

That'd wish thee always near. 

How oft hast thou me standing made 

A veritable tree, 
To hasten grumbling from my feet 

T' my shoulder, eh, Kitty! 

Thy weight doth not my neck oppress, 

Nor doth thy tongue excite 
My nerves ; but leers, like those you aim 

At my poor lips, unite 

To bid me watch thy mischievous hand : 

Ah ! glad am I to see 
That that old lexicon relieves 

My ear, and neck, of thee. 

When comes a stony, inky block 

That crumbles in thy bed. 
What next will meet thy fancy, Kit, 

To choose as bed, instead ? 



40 L^isuRiS Moments 

Oh ! naughty, pet, — why with thy hand 
Now blur what shew the path, 

O'er which my steelly steed did trot ? 
Why rouse pegasan wrath? 

Hear ! footprints, on this milky way, 
Are not of those that mark 

Thy tribe, thy race, thy sense ; thou art 
At best but in the dark. 

And, now, before I do transfer 

The spirits of this page 
(Since I must bury what I wrote, 

And, too, my innocent rage), 

Let these same bearers of their forms 
Bear thee to where much dust 

Would lie, if from my good cigar 
Drop ashes, crust by crust. 



Leisure MoME:N'rs 41 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Ah ! well did Spring with magic touch trans- 
form 
The forest skeletons to shapes that shade 
The landscape em'rald that, with the alarum 
A nation's knell now sounds (for thou 

hast made 
Thine exit), I may, on this side the glade, 
Bespread thy bed with newest leaves of bay, 
Which ere the vengeful summer's gone 
may fade: 
Thee England mourns; for, lo, to her dis- 
may, 
She woke to find her darling hero lifeless clay. 

Thee, type of English daring, Eton's pride, 
Youth's guide upon the road to martial 
fame, 
Thy country mourns : and lonely now beside 
Thy couch stands Courage weeping, fear- 
less dame — 
Thy consort o'er the fields that knew thy 
name. 
Which of the cruel Fates with feigning love 



42 LieisuR^ Mome:nts 

Did kiss thee, Redvers, with her lips 
aflame 
With red revenge, because 'twas not with 
glove 
Some thornful entities from earth thou didst 
remove ? 

Sleep well. For latest days, now Honour 
writes 
Upon the tablet of thy Country's heart 
Thy name amongst those of the bravest 
wights : 
Permitteth me my muse to act her part, 
Me yet unskill'd in her divinest art; 
Unlaurell'd though, she'd wind about thy 
head 
A wreath of bay, whose leaves would 
soonest start 
To mellow. But to whom shall Courage 
wed? 
She leaves what was btit 3^esterday her bridal 
bed. 
June 3, 1908. 



L^isuR^ Moments 43 



THE SIEGE OF QUEBEC. 

Greece, Italy, and others — all have seen 
Their fields made vast arenas, where 
dread strife 
Drain'd many a bravest heart that long had 
been 
A mother's joy, her pride, her highest 

Hfe: 
Canadian fields, too, have fierce fights, 
not rife. 
Made gory; redden'd the Saint Lawrence 
ran. 
Perhaps in anger, when Quebec, his wife. 
Lay maim'd, for Wolfe had led his every 
man 
E'en to her iron gates, he leader of the van. 

War charged the breath of England's loyal 

sons; 
And zvar the Frenchman's: for three 

passing years 
On either side th' Atlantic's tide, their guns 

By rival thunders signall'd common 

tears. 



44 L^isuREj Mome:nts 

*'Go, take Quebec," said Pitt, new to the 
cares 
Of premier office in the Empire wide; 

Wolfe martiaird arms, long eager; sail'd: 
dark Fears 
(That would but try to stain a nation's 
pride) 
From Saunder's frigates fled, as fast these 
plough'd the tide. 

In numbers far superior, from the Fall 
Of Montmorency to Saint Charles, stood 
fast 
The French in deepest ranks, — 'twas Duty's 
call ; 
But when from Isle Orleans brave Wolfe 

had cast 
A martial eye benearing what was last 
Upon his sweeping scan, the blood soon fled 

To each his pallid cheek, as o'er the vast 
Canadian fluvial shore his eye had sped 
Obstructed by a gun-peak'd wall soon ridged 
with dead. 

And two days more, June would have left 
Wolfe's arms 
Still idle on the islet of Orleans; 
But blood as his was, test'd, unspill'd by 
harms 
Brought near at Falkirk, Dettingen, and 
scenes 



L^ISUR^ MOMI^NTS 45 

More daring coloured, as at Rochefort's 
greens, — 
That blood him fill'd with ire, which 
breathed command 
To take this strongest fortress by a means 
Forlorn, and fruitless, when against a land 
Fort-crown'd, and mann'd, his latest stratagem 
was plann'd. 

What if had Monckton, Townshend, Mur- 
ray seen 
The plots staged faithfully — just as de- 
sign'd ! 
What if the fruits of later feats, though 
green. 
Had ripen'd, and not scorch'd by adverse 

wind — 
When fell four hundred, prey to fire un- 
kind! 
Now watch'd brave hearts of oak, beneath a 
sky 
Of summer glow, from silent guns be- 
hind. 
While one, majestic in command, with eye 
Far seeing, learnt what was so distant, as if 
nigh. 

The summer hours, now near all gathered, 
lay 
Abundant 'neath the leafy mounds of oak 
And pine, when Wolfe, along the wat'ry way 



46 LEISURE Mome:nts 

Unlit, with muffled oars, and silent stroke 
Led on the martial skiffs he mann'd. 
When woke 
Montcalm of French renown, from where 
he'd lain, 
He saw, as if awaked, too, when day 
broke, 
A host array'd, south-west, upon the plain 
That table-like rose far above the crystal main ; 

For all unseen had Wolfe the steep way led, 

His treach'rous footing made safe by the 

hand. 

Now proud behind his turrets, Montcalm 

said: 

"I shall erase tliem soon from where they 

stand :" 
And as he voiced this his bold command : 
"Advance! Charge! Fire! Stain ye your 
swords Vvath blood; 
Your bayonets ensheathe in sinews; and 
Stay not the Eagle's course till runs a flood 
From every talon wound to dye the river's 
mud," 

Forth belch'd a myriad fires, and thunders 

roar'd. 
As if a hundred Joves had storm'd the 

spheres ; 
But still obedient, though with patience 

bored, 



L^isuREi Moments 47 

The English — targets — answered not : like 

bears 
They patient crouch'd behind the fence- 
like lairs 
Their rifles made in steel-crown'd rows ; and 
when 
Within their range the French came, un- 
awares 
They show'r'd a blinding storm of fire, 
which then 
Sent reeling back, pell-mell, Montcalm and all 
his men. 

Wolfe led the way to vict'ry ; but *twas thrice 

Upon the way he halted, stung by fire : 
Once, twice he rose, and start'd again; the 
vice 
Of Death him held when last he fell. As 

higher 
The tide of charging rose, he did enquire, 
Reclining, swooning, as he heard They run: 
*'Who run ?" And one replied : " "The 
en'my, Sire;" 
Cried Wolfe to him: "Let nothing pass a 
gun 
From fields outlying to Montcalm, till victVy*s 
won." 

And ere the tide of battle swept Montcalm 
And his battalions from the fort, Wolfe 
lay, 



48 Lkisurk Moments 

Upon the Plains of Abraham, soothed with 
balm — 
Eternal healing to his aching clay 
Now stark, and cold, 'neath heaven's fad- 
ing ray. 
Montcalm, too, cross'd the lonely darksome 
vale, 
Through which had Wolfe pass'd on that 
fatal day; 
And those he left behind to tell the tale 
Ere long did find themselves within the Eng- 
lish pale. 



Le:isure Mome:nts 49 



GETTYSBURG. 

I felt this morning's breath as on it passed 

Towards eternity ; and now the noon 
Is serving me not what the morning, last, 
Had giv'n; and what will evening bring 
me soon? 
These, as the Fates, my measured hours 

attune 
As please them all obedient to their iceberg 
Hearts — cold indiff'rence : 'twas on a new 
moon 
They breathed a new Thermopylae: — at 
Hamburg, 
Or Berlin rather ? No, not there, — at Gettys- 
burg. 

At Gettysburg low laid — from where rise 

peak'd, 

And sad, opposing heights in parallel ways 

(Save where the one in curvature had 

sneak'd 

Away from strifes of earlier summer 

days),— 
At Gettysburg, methinks, as now doth 
•gaze 



50 Leisure Moments 

A summer sun upon that hallow'd spot, 
I see the war-clouds gather thick, and 
prays 
One that the spark, the thunder-clap would 
not 
But bring, in showers, the good that is man's 
joyous lot. 

The thund'ring had all ceased at Sharpsburg, 
where 
A field was claim'd and won; the hope, 
the fire. 
Which fill'd each breast, on future fields did 
glare; 
And there were seen new vict'ries — one 

desire : 
But, ah, at Gettysburg, burst forth the ire, 
Full blown, revengeful of the past defeat : 
Through burning hours, three noons did 
it require 
To muster fullest strength : blood at red- 
heat 
Made then that field an altar, now a sad retreat. 

Dark-brow 'd, cloud-capp'd, and hydra-head- 
ed, down 
Upon the gath'ring arms look'd sadly 
those 

Hills, at fair Gettysburg. Who watch'd '3em 
frown 



Leisures Moments 5^ 

When, as July from months of slumber 

rose, 
Friends, kit and kin, in dubious fight did 
close ? 
They saw, they felt, they drank, with heav'n 
they wept, 
For at their feet those, who were blood- 
knit foes. 
Lay heap'd, and cold; and while these 
breathless slept. 
The bruised trees, like sentinels, the vigil kept. 

Morn saw a skirmish; eve unsettled strife; 
Next evening saw the Fates still wrang- 
ling o'er 
The fickle balance; but the tliird, the life 
Blood of Earth's largest plann'd republic 

more . 

To one side weigh that strife, full stam d 

with gore. 
True pivoted at Picket's charge,— as fell, 
It stay'd ; and this at Gettysburg. Afore 
Old Waterloo, now Gettysburg doth tell 
That on it last a nation s destiny did dwell. 



52 Leisure Moments 



INSECURITY. 

The mighty oak, mail'd 'gainst the tempest's 

rage, 
Yet target of Jove's anger, red, and Wind, 
Monarch for years, may in one moment yield 
Securest fame to but an acorn's bud : . 
So yielding may be what earth knows as fame, 
Time's ravage knows not health, nor hour, nor 

name. 



Leisure MoM:eNTS 53 



IF. 



A yawning gap, or but Gibraltar-like 
A steep abrupt, ne'er to be overcome, 
Attainment from the unattain'd to some 

Divides ; and each the ditch, or but the dike, 

Which m.arks the place where'er the Will did 
strike 
'Gainst dread Defeat's all rattling, shatt'ring 

bomb, 
Or meet Success with glad and noisy hum 

For vantage 'gainst an almost deadly pike. 

This common semblance of prevention meets 
The ear from those, who would, or could, or 
should, 
But did not reach the now-wish'd vantage seats 
Which Mem'ry, or the world would own as 
good ; 
And just as Time of yore, the Present greets 
This IF defending now as e'er it could. 



54 L^isur:e Moments 



NEVER. 

The wishful eyes spill tears for what is near, 
And far enough to tantalise the mind; 
The arm outstretch'd to pluck so glad a find 
Would still, through fingers dancing, fill the 

air 
With vain inventions fraught with prospects 
fair, 
And spectre-like, — these, tunnell'd paths to 

wind 
Through mighty obstacles that hopeless 
blind 
A willing industry, a need, a care. 

Unown'd, and out of reach a treasure sits 

Inviting to most mortals ; but a Fate 
With wilful plans had made her regal writs 

Ordaining feast for eyes, but nought of date 
When lingual touch takes place, for it ne'er 
flits 
In downward flight to please him, who 
would wait. 



L^isuR^ Moments 55 



A-MATING. 

Life's path all strewn with roses, 
Or one full set with thorn, 

Life's day made of reposes, 
One breathing hopes forlorn, 

Succeeding days all sunny. 
Or days of weeping hours, 

All life pursuing money, 
Or years in Idle's bowers. 

Would weary even patience. 
And sick'n a healthy mind ; 

Whilst blended, their joint presence 
Makes absent each its kind 

(Just as in Music, measures 

Bereft of discords shew 
Too clear the hidden treasures. 
Which plent'ous seen, cheap grow; 

Or, bars with discords studded 

Declare the art insane ; 
Whilst if all earth is flodded 

By both in mingling strain, 



'56 L^isuRS^ Moments 

With music irrigating, 

Imagination yields) : 
Dame Nature's song, A-Mating, 

Must e'er attune her fields. 



L:eisuRE MoMijNTS 57 



TO CONSCIENCE. 

Fair arbiter of all men's deeds, 
Whose fearless nod doth relegate 
Proud Right, and shameless Wrong to sate 

Each o'er his mem'ry's wheat, and weeds ! 

Wise choice is thy secure abode 

Hid from the gaze of influence vile; 
Conniving not at Satan's wile. 

Undaunted, Justice guards thy road. 

The wise, the great wait at thy feet, 
And with earth's humblest list to thee; 
The judge, the prisoner, bond, and free 

Before thy throne in common meet. 

Save when thine intellect is blunt — 
When Justice from thy side departs, 
Thus leaving thee the king of hearts 

That shine at Lucifer's dark font; 

And Mem'ry then before thy throne, 
With plaints against thy past decrees. 
Would write upon her cheeks the pleas 

Successful 'gainst wrongs thou hast done — 



58 L^isuR]^ Mome:nts 

The span, which from thine earhest hours 
Brings thee the last, is laurell'd by 
The choicest leaves that ever sigh 

In winds that bathe fair Eden's bowers. 

Since passing years no foot-marks leave 
Upon thy locks, let fleeting time 
No false ideal, from polar clime 

To tropic, give, thee to deceive. 



leisure: Mome:nts 59 



PATIENCE. 

Wait pa. jiitly on God's own time; 

In waiting, never tire : 
Protracted springtime fitter makes 

The fruit for Summer's fire. 

Leap forward not; move cautiously; 

Thy time and action plan ; 
The past, thy chart ; the future, fields ; 

And courage, shield: O man. 

While mortals slumber, fathom low 

Thy deep cavernous mind ; 
A golden morn, a silver cloud 

May greet thy midnight find. 

Her strength, once dormant, Earth doth see 

To gather motive pow'r; 
And unexpected shatter'd lies 

Wealth's worshipp'd, mossy tow'r. 

The air in slumber lieth, as 

A fickle sprite, at rest; 
But madden'd antics soon it hurls 

O'er Earth's defenceless breast. 



6o Leisure Moments 

And while the billows monsterlike 

The tempest lashes wild, 
The port-bound pilot wise remains 

The storm's obedient child. 

But ne'er with patience armour thee, 
If Sluggard be thy role; 
For, on life's stage, each motion doth 
Reveal the actor's soul. 



Leisure Moments 6i 



AT EASTERTIDE. 

What here belingers sighs, and tears, 

Which would reheve the soul 
Of burd'ning thoughts fraught with dark 
fears, — 

That ne'er 't may reach its goal? 

Methinks, I hear a whisper say : 

'' 'Twas Eastertide the first, 
Christ armoured in mortal clay, 

Death's gate for once did burst." 

Ah ! yes, — and now 'tis Eastertide ; 

Erom wintry slumber Earth 
Has risen; and here doth abide 

Blithe Spring of tender birth : 

So, at that Eastertide, when graves 

Their charges all must yield, 
Earth's vanquish'd, captors, lords, and slaves 

Anew will meet a-field. 



62 Lejisur^ Moments 



CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 

Hark, hark, I hear the tongues of Christmas 
bells 
(Whose silv'ry notes, too, mark an Au- 
tumn's fall) 
To many a hill, and to their spiry dells 

Are gath'ring faithful flocks, each with its 
call. 

List, list the chimes : the echoes in my ear 
Tell what the wise men saw on Christmas 
morn. 

When to His kingdom did a King appear: 
His birth no royal pageant did adorn. 

Thither from 'far. Him sages came to see, 
Rich with the Orient's treasures ; to His feet 

A star did guide them, and their company — 
The angels — cheer'd them with hozannas 
sweet. 

See, in the morning candle's waning light, 
The little children, Vaken'd show their glee : 

For in the sombre hours, hid from their sight 
A father brought them treasures much, and 
free. 



LmsuRi; Moments 63 

The promise, which an age had waited long 

To see, shot forth at last into the world ; 
The shoot sprang up the wheat and tares 
among ; 
Though lopp'd it sent aloft its leaves un- 
furl'd; 

Far o'er the land the shady branches wave, 
Scatt'ring fresh seeds; and here some flour- 
ish free: 
We are but shoots ; and till we reach the grave, 
Let Onward, Upward e'er our watchwords 
be. 

Now varied years assemble to outpour 

Each the heart's measure, each with grateful 
mind; 
Tongues, now in silence buried, did adore 
Him, who was meek, and gentle, loving, 
kind: 

As those, too, who within some sacred hall 
Now gather, we ourselves — glad treasures — • 
bring 

Along with incensed praise, with gold; let all 
Our cares, too, lie before our Saviour King. 

Night reigns, a candle rules its little realm ; 
At dawn. Night's luminaries dimly burn : 
He, who by fear had sway'd a statecraft's 
helm. 



64 LEISURE Moments 

Sat soon forgot by men, who quick did 
turn — 

Some glad, some doubting — to the Manger's 
door ; 
But now the sovereign would, to join the 
throng, 
Descend his throne, and, unlike him of yore, 
Would seek Him with meek footsteps, 
pray'r, and song. 



Lkisur^ Moments 



ODES TO THE SEASONS. 



Triumphant Spring ! as gaily o'er the fields 
Thou mak'st thy pageant march, the tongued 

winds 
Glad hail thine advent, which their songs pro- 
claim 
From ocean's crests to farthest peaken bow'rs. 
Ere long, no more the white-mask'd spires shall 

view 
Thy fields with tearsome eyes; nor will the 

hearth 
Keep by his side, O Spring, earth's bubbling 

mirth, — 
The sun is near, reviewing tropic foams. 
In Nature's carpets, flow'rs of varying hues 
Are interwoven ; on the once shorn trees 
Green caps, with tassels dangling in the air, 
Make light and shade, where sight the distance 

sees; 
Ah ! Summer must succeed thee, and his breath 
Shall parch the beaut'ous emblems of thy days! 



66 LiSisure: Mome:nts 

II. 

As with a brazen eye, the meadows green 
Thou, Summer, dost survey, thy less'ning gaze 
Of fierce regret must watch the nimble hours, 
As slow they, number'd, lie for Autumn's 

tread. 
Hail, Summer ! swift to rent the veiled sky 
With hurled darts, the earth's too tim'rous 

throng- 
Bewail thine anger, but with noisesome voice 
Invoke thee blessings, while thy pleasures live. 
Thy reign is ending; tender Autumn's cry 
Will soon be heard, but never by thine ear — 
A brother's ear, — ere long thee stark and cold 
A leafy sepulture will cover o'er; 
Whilst there thou dreamest. Autumn will re- 
joice 
For bounties, which thy fire now doth prepare. 

III. 

O Autumn, Autumn! thine it is to mourn 
The year's decline, as o'er dead Summer's pile 
Thy tending winds must soon their requiems 

pore, 
Whilst trees, and shrubs their headgears off 

must throw. 
And as the golden fields, and meadows green 
Thou wouldst but garner, fill thy spacious 

stores. 



L^isuR^ Moments 67, 

That Winter's sunken mouth may, as afore, 
Rich choose from what a gen'rous Spring did 

sow. 
How fickle are thy ways : the land, the sea 
In thee feel Winter's touch, and Summer's 

breath ; 
Would that thy locks no traces of fled days 
Betray, — the silv'ry hue of reverenced age. 
Alas ! thou, too, must go with passing Time, 
And take thy mantled rest beneath the snow. 



IV. 

None welcomes thee, grim Winter: thy cold 

breath 
Doth strike in vain the door, the window pane ; 
By day, by night, the gen'rous hearth doth 

spend 
His moments in the Pleasures' company; 
Without, the streams, which once the oceans 

fed, 
Lie glossy, dreaming; and asleep their might; 
And Earth, beneath a blanket white and cold 
Keeps warm the tender seedlings for Spring's 

care; 
Lest thou extinguishest his blazing hearth, 
Far from thy haunts the sun betakes himself 
To where a Spring's wan spirit was outdone. 
And Summer's sprite well to succeed doth 

strive ; 



68 L:eisuRE Moments 

His northward journey, now begun, shall 

bring, 
Ere long, the welcome end of thy dread reign. 



Ye, royal sons immortal of the year, 
Of whom two, peers, contemporaneously 
Divide earth's waste, which twain the tropic 

leaves 
You, — each, your portion of a hemisphere! 
As Phoenix', e'er your dust must faithful bear 
Again each future season but to rule 
Anew, twice while the sun his yearly course 
Pursues reviewing how the planets fare. 
The concert of your blending pleases Earth, 
And fittest colours gives in every tone. 
Save where perennial breathes an aged Spring 
'Neath summer skies o'ertopping autumn fields, 
Which constant dress'd in gaudy em'rald, shew 
No sunken trace of any passing year — 
The ashen hue of age — hoar-frost, and 

snow, — 
The tropic tree sheds not a winter tear. 



LEISURE Moments 69 



EVENING HYMN. 

Ere my freed spirit hovers near 

The dark still waters of Death's stream, 
I pray that Thou my plea wouldst hear, 

While lingereth the candle's gleam : 
O Lord ! protect me while I lie 
Unconscious 'neath this canopy. 

The setting sun hath led to earth 

The shades that rule the nightly hours ; 

And now bereft of day's glad mirth, 
I take content the lot that's ours: 

O Lord ! let this my humble cry 

Reach Thee from 'neath earth's canopy. 

Soon in Earth's sombre mantle's fold 
This frame awaits my soul's return; 

But if from Life's day to Death's cold, 
Long night I pass to fill my urn, 

Then keep, Lord, for my soul on high 

A place 'neath heaven's canopy. 



70 LEISURE MoMEiNTS 



'GOD BLESS OUR ISLAND HOME." 

Thou, land of tropic beauty! 

Glad home of laughing rills! 
May Heaven's 'special duty 

Enrich thy dales and hills : 
Thy bulwarks guard thy towers; 

Thy moat, with corals strewn, 
Protects thy shady bowers, 

Which merry breezes tune : 
Thou, child of England's valour ! 

Thy sons' hearts beat with pride, 
As peoples do thee honour 

Afar, and at thy side. 

The skies e'er paint at pleasure 

The surface of thy seas, 
And to thee fit climes measure, 

Queen of the Antilles : 
May God forever bless thee, 

Thy children kindly care. 
And rule thee with His mercy 

Throughout the live-long year: 
Our incense — pray'rs, we ever 

Glad offer — rises free, 



LEISURE Moments 71 

That thee He may dehver 
From every misery. 

Thou, home of heroes vahant, 

Whose fires swept the seas ! 
Their names, as stars, still brilliant 

Illumine galaxies : 
Though storms, and earthquakes shatter 

Thine idols, queenly Isle, 
Thy sons will never scatter 

In fear of Nature's guile; 
And e'en where Nature freezes, 

Or where thy sailors roam, 
There e'er will tune the breezes : 

"God Bless Our Island Home." 



PiNIg. 



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Sam S. & Lee Shubert 

direct the following theatres and theatrical 
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Grand Opera House, Dav- 
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New Theatre, Toronto.^ 

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Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
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Majestic Theatre, Los An- 
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Belasco Theatre, Portland. 

Shubert Theatre, Seattle. 

Majestic Theatre, San Fran- 
cisco. 

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Margaret Anglin and Henry * Shore Acres." 

Miller. 

„- . . _ , Louis Mann in ** The White 

Virginia Harned. Hen." 

**ISBetey"'°^" "°'°"" "Th« Road to Yesterday." 

Mme. Alia Nazimova. Henry Woodruff in ''Brown 

of Harvard." 

Thos. W. Ross in **The , _. 

Other'Girl." "The Secret Orchard," by 

^ ,. , Channing Pollock. 

Cecelia I^oftus. * 

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Blanche Ring. 
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id.'» { 



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° ^ ' opera. 

"The Girl Behind the .,^, 

Counter." ^^e Social Whirl," with 



The Light Kternal.* 



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"The Snow Man." Blue Moon." 

Blanche Bates in " The Girl Bertha Kalich 

from the Golden West." ..j^^j^ Kleschna." 

David Warfield in "The 

Music Master." ««The Man on the Box." 

" The Rose of the Rancho," 

with Rose Starr. Cyril Scott in " The Prince 

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Attractions. «i « ^r i . »h * <. 

■r^. 1 • ,i^Z ^T " Mrs. Temple's Telegram.'* 

Mrs. Fiske in "The New ^ 

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Books for ^^The Battle 
of Life'' ^ ^ ^ 

The Instrument Tuned 

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$J.OO, postpaid 

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A Biography 

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Told awt Twflight 

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^'^detightful collection of stories and po«nis}, 

^Author's photo.) 

$ixx>. 



Job Trotter 

By Sylvester Field. 
50c 

A unique work, proving that the "earUily paradise" 
of flie colored race is Africa. This book is decidedly 
^ best work that has yet appeared on the subject. 



TKe S!i\ of Ignorance 

Bv Henrietta Siegeu. 
$1.00. 

An exceedingly clever story, by a New York girl, who 
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(4 special drawings.) 



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A T&le of the Revoltstlon 

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i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. 

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A~£ascinating story of the Revolutionary period, in 
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The loves of Andre and Marcelle (herself a spy) lend a^ 
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TKe B\Erto£i Manor 

A NOVEL 

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Lost in the Mammoth Cave 

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A tale which a Jules Verne might envy from 
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A Tale of West Indian Insurrection* 

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Cloth, i2mo. Attractively Produced. 
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The scenes of this st:)ry are laid in Ste. 
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GREY DAWN REFLECTIONS 

By VIRGINIA BEALE LECKIE 

This clever Washington girl has come close to 
writing the wittiest and brightest book of epigrams 
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VIOLA T. iMAXIMA 
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> »■ I . I I I jJ I J I - I I ■— — — — M« 'll . I<ll 

Evelyn 

rJtJStory of the West and the Far' East ^ 

By Mrs. Ansel OppeIjiheim.j 

4 lUus. $1.50. 

Limited edition in leather, $2.00^ 

[Ckc 9n*e bM spoken of Uls book with anqaatiaed teriM at pnlav, 



The L&st of the Caveblleni 

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^ Drawings and Autfaor^s Photo; 

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New Book by the Author of 

A Girl and the Devil ! 

We beg to amiounce for autumn a new novel from 
.the pen of Jeannette Llewellyn Edwards, entitled 

LOVE IN THE TROPICS 

The scene of Miss Edwards' new work is laid in 
(Strange lands, and a treat may be confidently prom- 
tsed the wide reading public whose interest in her first 
book has caused it to run through over a dozen editions. 

"LOVE IN THE TROPICS" 

«»/// be ready about /^otf ember i, and 
particulars ttfill be duly announced.' 



TTie New Woma^nhood 

By WiNNIFRED H. COOLEV. 
$1-25. 

^Ko more original, strikmg and brilliant treatise on 
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vast public which is watchmg the widening of woman's 
sphere. Mrs. Cooley is a lecturer and writer of many 
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ment and no one is better qualified to^^^ak to the great 
tiea«t of wc»nankind. 



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Llewellyn 

A NOVEL 

By Hadley S. KlMBERLIWa^ 

Ctoth. $1.50. 
5 Illustrations by S. Klarr? 

Here is a story whose artistic realism will appeal to 

everyone, while its distinction as a serious novel is made 
evident by its clever anaJysis, sparkling dialogue ajid 
thrilling and powerful situations. "Llewellyn" will win 
all hearts by her purity and charm. 



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Sawtaf\ of the Modem World 

By E. G. Doyen.. 
J2mo, cloth, handsomely produced. 

The Sitle of this book will arouse curiosity r^adils 
brilliant contents will fully reward the wide public whiicli 
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A Misso\&riai\*s ^Honor^ 

By Wv W. Arnolds,. 

Go^, i2mo. $u<XK, 

^ Illustrations.. 



OCT 6 1909 



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